


I'll Be Your Eyes

by NarryEm



Category: One Direction (Band), Union J (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, fluffing cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/NarryEm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just that George is completely blind without his (recently broken) glasses and his contacts aren't arriving until next week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> title is obviously from Union J's "Carry You" ;3

"No, no, no, nonononono!" George wails. "Baby, I love you and I need you so much! Don't die on me, baby!"

 

George's glasses are lying on the hardwood floor in pieces. His fifteen-hundred pound Emporio Armani glasses. Flipping Empori that cost his entire one month's salary. Okay, he probably makes loads more than that but what would he know? His minder is the one who handles the money Union J make, not him.

"What's wrong, Georgie Porge?" Harry asks, hurrying into their living room. 

"My glasses broke," George confesses, pointing at the offending plastic pieces on the floor. "And you know that I can't see shite without 'em."

Harry tugs on George's wrists and pulls him in for a comforting hug. He then tilts his head a tiny bit and presses a tickling kiss atop George's wavy-ish straight hair. "Babe, you know when your vision gets blurry I'll be your eyes."

George wiggles out of Harry's grip and gives him a mock glare. "Are you quoting my band's song at me?"

"Sure am, Georgie. You are in one of my favourite boy-bands ever." 

"You're a right fool, you reckon," George teases.

"As long as I'm _your_ right fool, 'm happy."

At that sappy lovesick comment that only the couples in their so-called honeymoon phase can muster, George blushes bright pink.

"You're so adorable when you blush," Harry teases, pinching lightly at George's cutting cheek bones. 

"You only say that 'cause you have to as my boyfriend," counter George, the heat in his words barely tangible even to himself.

"Mine." Harry lowers his mouth to nip at the top of his earlobe.

"Yours." George replies breathlessly. (Really, the way Harry flicks his tongue as he pulls away should be illegal.)

 

-

 

 

"Nooooo!" George screeches into the phone at particularly no one (because he is talking to the automated computer program).

"Why? What happened, babe?" Harry queries, sucking lightly on the hollow of George's pale throat.

George lets out an in involuntary moan and bares more skin for Harry to suck and nibble on. Okay, so he's choosing to hide from his current adversary but how is anything relevant when Harry Styles is tonguing the pulse on the side of your neck?

 

Harry must have cottoned on to what George is up to because, sadly, he removes his lips from George's neck. "Georgie. Tell me why you're upset," he asks in an utterly polite yet charismatic way that only he can muster.

George pouts. "M' contacts aren't coming in 'til next week. And that's the minimum." 

"It's alright," says Harry, kissing George's cheek close to the corner of his mouth. "I meant it when I said that I'll be your eyes."

 

-

 

Harry finds out rather quickly that keeping his promise is easier said than done. By a thousand times, if not millions.

He never knew that George was as clumsy as he. 

Okay, even clumsier.

The thing is, Harry has always accepted the fact that he will forever be the human equivalent of a newborn gazelle that trips over its little feet. (Well, Harry has enormous feet, but that's a discussion for another matter, innit.) He has gone through some growth spurt as witnessed by the nation during the beginnings of One Direction; and for some comically cruel reason, the motor sensors have never bothered telling his brain that his legs are twice as long as his brain remembers them being. He's had no choice but to learn to laugh it over whenever he made an utter fool out of himself on stage. 

Anyhoo.

First day without any corrective lenses, George manages to bump into every single corner of furniture in their flat. About halfway through the day, Harry has to cuddle up to his Georgie in bed kiss every new bruise and scrape.

Second day, Union J has a promotion thing to go to so Harry asks Jaymi to watch out for George. Hours later when he logs onto Twitter, he sees pictures, gifs and videos of George falling flat on his face, taking Jaymi down with him.

He hopes that George's new glasses will arrive early by some godly miracle.

-

Sadly, nothing miraculous happens. Harry is on keep-George-from-potentially-ending-up-in-A&E duty for a solid week. He's got to admit, the past has been a testament of his observant-ness, or lack thereof. He's not proud to admit, but he's quite shit at his self-appointed job.

On the eighth day, Harry is awoken from his afternoon nap ("You're such a kitty!" George would tease. "You're kitty," Harry would solemnly reply and lick his face. ) by an excited shriek. He is snapped into attention because the sound is startlingly similar to one of those made by fangirls when they spot him.

Harry is awoken from his afternoon nap ("You're such a kitty!" George would tease. 

"You're kitty," Harry would solemnly reply whilst trying to lick his face. ) by an excited shriek. He is snapped into attention because the sound is startlingly similar to one of those made by fangirls when they spot him.

Instead of an overexcited fangirl in his doorway, he finds his adorable boyfriend holding a box.

"Look!" George giggles, waving the box at Harry. "My contacts are here!" 

"That's great!" Harry enthuses. "It hurt me too every time you walked into something." 

"Aww," George croons, putting the box on the table. "You are such a sap, Mr Teenage Heartthrob." 

Harry smiles sheepishly. He knows that he is a total sap, is the thing. He is completely putty in George's long, guitar-roughened hands. "Only for you, Mr Shelley. Only for you."


End file.
